Horse With No Name
by Invader Sam
Summary: Another one-shot Gorillaz fic, this time set during their first US tour. Noodle is plagued with nightmares and Murdoc, fearing it may be affecting her performance in the band, decides to 'handle it'. :) Rated for one or two curse words.


The trouble with the United States was that it was so bloody big. The former-colonists had so much space and they didn't have a clue what to do with it, so they clustered along the coasts and in between lay infinite nothingness. Long windy interstates through farmland that turned into dessert that no one in their right mind would give two sticks for. This was what Murdoc Niccals found himself starring at as he stood on the mid-western motel balcony, nursing a bottle of scotch.

The neon lights of the 'VACANCY' sign cast a tacky, pinkish-red glow over the scene as the bassist surveyed it. He could see it reflected in the motel pool, which occupied the left portion of the courtyard. It bounced off the roofs of the cars, most of which were dwarfed by their gargantuan tour bus. Truthfully, he would've preferred to keep on driving straight through, but the space between Chicago and Las Vegas was vaster than he'd first thought. That and 2D was complaining non-stop about not being able to sleep on a moving vehicle. Russell had given in and pulled them over at the nearest roadside inn.

So here he was, drinking and pacing because he had nothing better to do. _The Middle Of Nowhere, USA_ didn't even have any suitable brothels that he could find in the grody old yellow pages tucked in the nightstand. And with his band mates all asleep inside, he couldn't even use the TV to drown out the unbearable quiet. With a heavy sigh, he leaned over the railing, almost ready to resign himself to his boredom and attempt sleep when suddenly he was jolted out of his stupor by a high pitched scream.

He shot upright, the bottle slipping from his hand and left clattering to the ground unnoticed as he spun around towards the room. In the bed nearest to the open sliding glass doors, the tiny figure of his guitarist was thrashing about wildly beneath her sheets, shrieking at the top of her lungs.

As Murdoc reached the side of the bed, his drummer was already there (how someone that large moved that fast was beyond him). "Aww, shit not again," Russell muttered.

"Wot's goin' on…?" 2D's voice drifted over from the other bed as the singer sat up.

"Noodle's havin' one of 'er fits," Hobbs answered, reaching out to tug at the sheets. "She's gonna strangle herself if she keeps this up."

"What you mean 'again'?" Murdoc demanded.

"You wouldn't know, with how many nights you spend out," Russ said testily, freeing the still writhing little girl from her cheap cotton bonds and then grasping her by the shoulders to keep her still. "But this is becoming a regular thing." He leaned in towards Noodle, "Wake up, girl. C'mon wake up."

With his gentle shake, her eyes shot open, tears spilling from them as she gazed up at the foggy yet familiar faces hovering over her. With a frightened gasp, she shot upright, latching onto the drummer as she sobbed.

"Easy, baby girl, it's alright, I gotcha," Russell said gently, patting her back.

"Poor fing…" 2D said sadly, coming to sit beside her on the bed, his blue hair an even bigger tangled mess than usual.

Murdoc wrinkled his crooked nose and straightened up. "What, all this fuss over a bloody nightmare?" he asked incredulously.

"Awful fings, really," 2D answered, stroking Noodle's tousled purple hair.

She jerked involuntarily at his touch, whipping around to see who'd done it, then flung herself at him, weeping into his t-shirt.

"So how d'ya get 'er to stop?" Niccals asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Russell glared up at the bassist, "She stops when she stops, Muds. That's all."

"Ya mean she could carry on like this fer hours?"

"Sometimes," Stuart answered.

"Is _that_ why you were all so fucking zonked at the last gig?" Murdoc asked, gawking at the group, "Oh no, no no I won't have it! This rubbish stops right now. If anybody's gonna be up for all hours of the night, it's gonna be me, cuz I'm the only one with the stamina for it." He jerked himself in the chest with his thumb then held out one arm. "Give 'er to me."

"You nuts?"

"I don' fink that's a good idea…"

"I said give 'er," he repeated, reaching out with both hands forcefully.

When 2D hesitated a moment more, Murdoc let out a growling sigh and plucked the little girl from the singer's arms. Disoriented, she let out another wail as he lifted her up, hooked one arm under her and headed for the door.

"Where you goin'?" Russell called after him, rising anxiously to his feet.

"We're going to get some air," Niccals said, his voice steady despite the generous effort his guitarist was making to escape his grasp. "Don' wait up."

As the door shut and Noodle's frantic, incomprehensible cries grew fainter, 2D turned worriedly to Russell. "Ya fink we should follow 'im?"

The drummer ran a hand over his shaved head. "Nah, he knows I'll kill 'im if he does anything to 'er…she'll be alright."

"But will 'ee?"

"That…is something I don't worry about."

* * *

The lobby of the _Oasis_ motel could barely be called that, consisting of nothing more than a check-in desk flocked by plastic palm trees and about six square feet of stained tile. Upon passing through its soap-spotted glass door earlier that evening, Murdoc had amused himself at what a fright they'd given the clerk, so used to dopey native tourists and senior citizen bus tours. Such cutting edge bands as his usually never lowered themselves to this level of mediocrity, and he was surprised the pale-faced twat hadn't called in to the local news.

_'Though maybe paparazzi wouldn't be best at this moment…'_ he thought wryly as he carried a still-hysterical Noodle through the tiny room. _'Always fancied m'self as a man wif a rep, but this wasn't exactly what I had in mind…'_

He flashed a pointy-tooth smile at the anxious-looking young man behind the desk. "Lovely night for a stroll, eh?" he said. The clerk merely nodded, shrinking further behind the counter. "Ain't that right, luv?" he asked, turning his attention towards the wailing child.

His only answer was a tiny fist connecting with his jaw.

The bassist let out a string of expletives as he let Noodle drop from his arms. "Russ-kun! Too-Dee-kuuuuun!" she cried, stumbling as she ran for the stairwell.

"Oh no ya don't!" Murdoc said, catching up to her in two long strides and scooping her up by the waist. "Yer with me now. Ya don't need those two dolts. We're gonna settle this mess _now_, hear me?"

The face he now held inches from his own was downright pitiful. Her dark eyes were red (and still leaking silently), her cheeks streaked with wetness, lower lip trembling as she stammered out, "N-naitomea, Murdocu-san…"

"Rrrrright…" he grumbled. "Well, we'll just hafta take care of that now, won't we?" he told her, hoisting her up to hold her against his hip.

"Take…care?" she asked.

"S'what I said," he nodded, striding out of the lobby as he spoke. "But no more o' that bloody screaming – hear me? The dead wake up enough 'round us wifout you bein' their stonking alarm clock."

"B-but–"

"No, no, no, no, no," Murdoc shook his head sharply. "Don't you start. There can't be _anything_ in a dream to get you this worked up." He stopped out where the walkway met the parking lot, gazing up at the neon light display before asking. "So you wanna talk about this and get it all sorted, or you wanna be a baby and carry on like this forever?"

She pursed her little lips indignantly, "Not baby…" she muttered.

He chuckled, "Too right – you're a member of Gorillaz, after all! Never seen ya so rattled afore, girlie…" he said, lowering himself down to sit on the curb, the guitarist seated on his knee, "What's that about anyway?"

"Naitomea," she said again, adamantly, "I see…white…and faces and…" She gestured with her index fingers, jabbing him sharply. "Poke, hurt…Angry." She then broke off into an animated tirade in Japanese, eyebrows furrowed as she babbled in what she must have thought was adequate explanation, gesticulating all manner of violent acts, so fervently in fact, that she nearly toppled right out of his lap.

"Whoa, whoa, easy now," he said, chuckling as he steadied her with one hand. "Ya lost me _waaaaay_ back at the beginning of that story. Wanna back up 'n try it again?"

The little girl sighed heavily, her slender shoulders drooping, causing one strap of her too-big tank top to go sliding downwards as she mumbled to herself in her native language.

With a grimace, Murdoc awkwardly repositioned the garment. He was suddenly regretting his refusal to go out and shop for more appropriate bedtime attire for her – 2D's hand-me-downs weren't exactly her size. "C'mon, I can't have this becoming a habit – we all know I've got enough bad ones for all of us," he prodded, letting out a snort of laughter. _'Not to mention who knows what would happen to the band if she went mental and decided not to play anymore…'_ "Whatever it was you were jabberin' about, y'know it's not real, so why's it got ya so spooked?"

His teasing smile faded however, as he felt her fist close down and tighten around the worn, unwashed cotton of his shirt. Her back tensed under his hand and she said quietly, "Felt…real…"

"Mmmmnyeah…they have a tendency to do that," he nodded, scratching his chin distractedly.  
She raised her head slowly up towards him, and by the neon lights he noticed for the first time the dark circles under her eyes, partly hidden by the red puffiness brought on by her tears. _'The li'l nip's startin' to look like me…'_ he mused, though the initial swelling of pride was dampened by a sudden twinge of something he wasn't used to feeling. So unfamiliar, he couldn't quite place a name to it.

"I tired, Murdocu-san," she told him. "But…scared to sleep. Can't see faces again, no wanting it."

Guilt. That was it. _'Dammit…'_ She was only ten, after all. Sure she played like a pro, but she was more of a prodigy than anything else – talented but grossly inexperienced. And what sort of a band leader was he, letting it get this bad? It was his turn to sigh, dragging one hand across his face and muttering something about 'bleeding hearts' before straightening up and pulling her closer to him. "This tour's been rough on you, hasn't it, luv?"

Noodle let her head fall against his chest, "So tired…" she repeated.

"Yeah, I know," he said, "How 'bout this then?" he asked, rising suddenly, with her small frame caught up in both arms, "You can bunk wif ol' Murdoc til we get back home, kay? Wot say you to that?"

"Bunk?" she asked, puzzled by the new word.

"Hang on, you'll see what I mean in a minute," he told her, striding down along the edge of the parking lot. A moment later, he was shifting her back to one arm so he could pull open the tour bus door. "Much more homey in here, don't ya think?" he asked, idly kicking empty beer cans out of the way as he made his way to the back of the bus. "Better than that moldy hotel room anyway. I'd have nightmares too, trying to sleep surrounded by that puke-green wall-paper…" He felt her quiver in his arm and caught a faint hint of laughter. _'That's better.'_ "Here we are then," he said, setting her down on the booth-like couch that ran round the length of the bus's end quarter, "Not your room at Kong, I know, but…"

"More home than up there," she finished the sentence for him, pointing out the back windshield at the motel.

"Exactly." He smirked as he sat down next to her, kicking his boots off. _'Might as well get comfy.'_ "Now here's how this works," he said, surprised at how raptly he held her attention, "You can go right on to sleep, so's you can be all bright eyed and bushy-tailed at our next gig, and if any of those bloody 'bad dreams' creep up on you again, you just send 'em my way. I'll sort 'em out right. After all, I'm _way_ scarier than any nightmare, right?"

Noodle wiped at her nose with the back of her hand (he could swear it was a move to hide her smile). "Mmhmm…"

"Too right," he nodded. "Now I don't think we've got any usable linens left, but I could probably find my cape around here some–" He stopped short as his guitarist had begun crawling back into his lap. "Wot you doin'?"

"Bunking wif Murdocu-san," she answered plainly.

He let out a short, nervous laugh. "Well, when I said that I didn't actually mean–"

"Murdocu-san catches bad dreams," she said, nuzzling against him as she worked to get comfortable. "So I no tired."

"…Right…" He watched her uncomfortably, forcing an awkward smile when she turned to beam up at him. _'Oh wouldn't Lardo have my head for this?'_ He further stiffened when she grabbed his right arm, embracing it like a lanky, tattooed security blanket. "So this is what it's gonna take, eh?"

"No more tired…" she said softly.

"Guess so," he sighed, slumping back against the upholstery. _'The things I do for my music…'_ "Well, erm, sleep tight and all that then."

"Oyasumi-nasai, Mudo-kun," she whispered.

The address got an eyebrow raise out of the bassist. 'Kun' was a suffix reserved for the fat one and the dullard. He'd been 'San' for as long as he could remember – he'd looked it up, and found it to be a term of respect as opposed to the one of endearment the others received. And he'd liked it that way. He was old enough to be her father after all, and he was her boss within the band dynamics. It made sense to be 'San'. 'Kun' opened up a whole new can of worms that he just wasn't ready to deal with.

_'On the other hand, it'd be great to see Russ' face if she used it in front of 'im…'_ He snickered in spite of himself, then cast his gaze downward, ready to share the joke with Noodle, only to find her already sound asleep. His malicious smile softened and he reached up to stroke her hair once before letting his head fall back. "Sweet dreams, kiddo," he muttered as his eyes close. "Here's hoping one of us wakes up before the idiots upstairs, or they'll never let me hear the end of it…"

~Fin~


End file.
